


For One Day, Duty Can Wait

by HardNoctLife



Series: IgNoct Week 2019 - HardNoctLife [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Children, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Friendship, Gen, Ignoct Week 2019, Loss of Parent(s), One Shot, Parent Death, Short One Shot, Young Ignis Scientia, Young Noctis Lucis Caelum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: IgNoct Week 2019 Day 1: “Comfort"All young Prince Noctis wants is to be a normal child. His future advisor, only a few years older, struggles with drawing the line between friendship and duty.When tragedy strikes, Ignis finds comfort where he least expects it.





	For One Day, Duty Can Wait

It was the perfect fall day—the sunlight shimmered through the burnt orange leaves, casting festive hues in the Citadel’s garden, warm in spite of the season’s chill. The sepia tone courtyard was empty, save for the young attendant and his even younger ward, the Crown Prince of Lucis.

Ignis had bundled himself in a thick coat, a wool scarf, and gloves, and was now overheating from exertion, regretting his decision to layer so thoroughly. The prince stood on the edge of the fountain, now emptied from the summer months, and placed hands on his hips, a sheen of sweat on his bare arms. Young Scientia sat on a bench nearby, surveying the scene in amusement.

“You gotta catch me!” Noctis crowed with all the exuberance of a seven-year-old child (which was a lot, Ignis might add.)

“You’re wearing me out,” Ignis laughed, but the ten-year-old stood and wiped the fog from his glasses, preparing himself for another round of tag.

_Run along and play_, King Regis had said distractedly when Ignis had asked about the day’s itinerary. He had barely been able to conceal his surprise as he bowed in the throne room, the monarch’s attendants looking to him with forced smiles. At the time, the sky had been blanketed with thick gray, drab and miserable, but Noctis had insisted on going outside.

The sun peeked through as soon as they entered the garden, their hearts lifting with the clouds.

After taking a deep breath, Ignis made a mad dash for Noctis and the prince squealed, the sound piercing the air and echoing off the cobblestones. They ran in mad circles, laughter layering with staccato footsteps. Ignis could tell the prince was beginning to tire as his movements became sporadic, and he slowed, drawing out the chase a little longer.

Eventually, the prince stumbled, but Ignis swooped in to tag him and they plopped onto the corner of the nearest bench to rest. Mini clouds formed as they sought to catch their breaths, the courtyard going still. 

“Again?” Noctis gasped. “I can chase _you_ this time!”

“Don’t you ever tire?” Ignis lamented, but the older boy was smiling. “You’re not nearly this involved during your lessons.”

“That’s because lessons are _boring_.” The prince’s nose scrunched and his future advisor bit back a snort. “Can’t we just do fun stuff like this instead?” Noctis hung his head a little as his tone dipped, legs kicking as he stared down at the ground. He was too short for his feet to touch, and Ignis found himself wanting to wrap an arm around the boy’s shoulders to comfort him, but he refrained.

_You must be perfect in every respect, Ignis. You will be advisor to the Crown Prince—all eyes will be on you. I realize you are close in age, but friendship is secondary to duty._

He recalled his father’s words and felt his smile wane, guilt creeping in.

“You will be king someday. It is important to take your studies seriously—”

Noctis rolled his eyes, pout intensifying. “_Someday_ isn’t today, Iggy!”

Ignis knew he should have told Noctis to use his _proper_ name. The boy had taken to calling him ‘Iggy’ because he still had difficulty speaking clearly, especially in front of adults, and it had raised more than a few eyebrows in polite conversation, but Ignis found he didn’t have the heart to correct him.

The elder raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re absolutely right. Perhaps we can compromise?”

Noctis glanced up at Ignis out of the corner of his eye with all the subtlety of his youth, trying not to look intrigued and failing.

Ignis leaned in, whispering for dramatic effect. He was pleased to see Noctis’s eyes widen, captivated. “I will not speak a word of your duties for the remainder of the day—but come tomorrow, we will devote ourselves to your studies. Fair?”

“Hmm,” Noctis made a show of thinking long and hard, sliding off the bench to scoop up a pile of leaves at his feet. “You won’t call me ‘Your Highness’?” he asked skeptically.

“Noctis it is,” Ignis vowed, getting to his feet. Their eyes locked, the boy’s head tilting to peer up at Ignis in wonder.

“Deal!” Noctis grinned, throwing the leaves suddenly so that they showered over them both. There was more laughter as Ignis made a lunge to continue their game, but he stopped suddenly, movement on the edge of the courtyard catching his eye.

Noctis danced out of reach and looked back expectantly, pausing when he saw Ignis wasn’t following. He traced the older boy’s gaze to where a retinue of Kingsglaive were approaching with grave expressions, Clarus Amicitia at the forefront. They both froze, the heavy footsteps of the approaching men the only sound.

Ignis could feel his heart racing in his chest, hammering into his ribcage painfully. He knew before Clarus spoke that he came bearing bad news. It was evident in the way they walked, deliberate and slow.

“Ignis.” The boy straightened at the advisor’s greeting, chin lifting. “Come with me,” Clarus ordered.

“Wait—we’re in the middle of something!” Noctis insisted in dismay. All eyes turned to the young prince, and Ignis saw the pity reflected them. His stomach dropped, his sweat cooling to send a shiver down his spine. 

“Your Highness, I apologize, but there is a serious matter that Ignis must attend to. Your nanny is awaiting you inside.” A Glaive stepped forward, intent on retrieving Noctis, but the boy ran to Ignis’s side, grasping his attendant’s hand stubbornly.

“You promised,” Noctis whined. Ignis smiled down at the boy sadly, apologetic. 

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured. Noctis shook his head as Ignis unwound their fingers, a Glaive stepping forward to take the prince away.

They left the courtyard, Noctis watching Ignis over his shoulder as they went in different directions. His horrified expression was like a shot through the boy’s heart, and Ignis had to look away as he followed reluctantly after Clarus.

Ignis felt the ghost of Noctis’s hand in his, wishing he still had it to cling to.

* * *

The funeral was a small, private affair. With no bodies to bury, it was more of a formality than anything. Ignis stood at the front of those assembled, looking small and out of place as the only child amongst a group of adults. His uncle stood to his left, one hand on his shoulder, but Ignis barely registered his presence. Noctis had not been permitted to attend.

They listened as His Majesty spoke, his intonation of the Scientias’ eulogy muffled by the bitter breeze that whipped through the graveyard. A freak boating accident at sea—lost somewhere between Accordo and Lucis. There had been no survivors.

Ignis noted the grayscale of the dead landscape as King Regis’s words washed over him, dark suits of the funeral-goers blending in with headstones and wiry trees. He vaguely registered that his hands had gone numb, but he allowed them to hang at his side instead of shoving them into his pockets. Feeling _anything_—even pain—was better than the horrible emptiness that ached inside him.

When King Regis finished his speech, men and women filed past the grave marker than had been erected on the Scientia family plot, the marble unusually shiny against the muted background. They placed white flowers on top as they passed. There were murmured condolences as people paid their respects, but Ignis didn’t acknowledge them. His uncle nodded and said ‘thank you’ while the boy stared at the tips of his uncomfortable leather shoes.

Eventually the somber parade came to an end, leaving only Ignis and his uncle, the boy’s only remaining family member. Ignis felt his chest pull tight as his undistracted mind drifted to the memory of his parents, the crushing realization that he would never see them again finally bearing down on him.

_I leave it to you, Ignis_.

His father’s last words before they had set sail—spoken in reference to his duty to Prince Noctis—Ignis’s duty to serve as Noctis’s retainer, and one day, as his primary advisor. It was the Scientia family _honor_ to serve the royal family, his parents had said. They had prided themselves in their longstanding value to the Caelums.

But Ignis’s parents weren’t _here_, and the ten-year-old boy thought nothing of duty and honor—only that he felt horribly, terribly alone.

* * *

It was late when Ignis got to his new room in the Citadel. An adjacent suite attached to his uncle’s; it was where he would live going forward. He hadn’t gone back to his parents’ apartments. His uncle had offered to gather his things throughout the week, but for now, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide under the covers.

The room was plain as it had not been used, a four-post bed, dresser, and side table the only furniture. Ignis kicked off his shoes at the door and closed it behind him, turning off the light before crawling onto the mattress.

Despite his exhaustion, Ignis couldn’t sleep, and he stared up at the ceiling in the dark as his thoughts ran wild.

When his door creaked open, he assumed it was his uncle checking on him, but when the boy glanced over at the sliver of light pouring into the room he was surprised to see a child-sized shadow silhouetted.

“Iggy?” the tiny voice sounded scared and unsure. Ignis sat up in alarm, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table.

“Prince Noctis? What are you doing here?” The last thing Ignis wanted was for Noctis to see him at his lowest point. He was supposed to be someone the prince could turn to for advice, but the child was already padding further into the bedroom and Ignis struggled to compose himself, hurrying to put on the mask he often wore.

“I heard…something bad happened.” Ignis managed to flip on the lamp and the room was flooded with a warm glow, Noctis’s gray-blue eyes blinking up at him.

The prince was wearing a pair of loose silk pajamas that draped over his small frame. He climbed onto the bed uninvited. Ignis sighed heavily, thankful that he had resisted the urge to cry when he was finally alone. _That_ would have been embarrassing.

“It’s all right. There was an accident,” Ignis explained. He bit back the urge to say more. Noctis didn’t need to know the details.

“Your parents died, right?”

Ignis inhaled sharply. Of course, the prince was young, but he wasn’t stupid. Even so, he hadn’t been prepared to discuss the topic with such frankness. 

There was an awkward silence as Noctis fiddled with a loose string on the comforter. He glanced up at Ignis from beneath downturned eyelashes, frowning.

“My mother died a few years ago.” Ignis stared, belatedly realizing his mouth was hanging open. He shut it with a _click_. Of course, he knew the queen had died in Noctis’s youth, but the prince had never mentioned it—no one had. “…I can stay with you—if you want. It’s not good to be alone after. My dad cried a lot,” Noctis admitted. 

Something in Ignis broke then, and his throat constricted, tears stinging the corners of his vision. Noctis smiled, hand reaching out to touch his attendant’s arm.

“It’s okay. We have each other.”

Ignis bowed his head, a sob escaping him. Once he started to cry, he found he couldn’t stop, and his wails pierced the darkness, his entire body shaking with the strength of his sorrow. Everything he had been holding back flooded to the surface—the pressure, the agony, the uncertainty. Ignis let it all go now, and Noctis patted his back reassuringly until the cries turned to sniffles, patient beyond his years.

“I—I’m sorry, Your Highness, I shouldn’t—” Ignis blubbered, wiping his face with the backs of his hands.

_I should be strong for you._

“It’s Noctis, remember? Until tomorrow,” the prince insisted. “You already messed up once.”

Ignis was fairly sure it was past midnight, but he bit back the correction and nodded. It was easy to give in to Noctis, and he was sure it would something he would continue to struggle with as time went on.

_Mother, father—I’m not sure I’m cut out for this, but…_

Noctis offered a small smile, hands clasped in-between his crossed legs, hair askew. His eyes were hopeful as he stared back at Ignis, heart opened wide in spite of his own loss.

_…I will do my best to make you proud. _

“Noctis. I’d love the honor of your company,” Ignis murmured. The prince beamed, immediately flopping onto the pillow beside his future advisor as Ignis reached to shut off the light.

“You won’t tell my dad I snuck out of my room, will you?” Noctis asked after a brief pause. Ignis chuckled, eyes sliding shut as his body relaxed and grew heavy. The emptiness in his heart had been replaced with a throbbing, bittersweet nostalgia.

“It will be our little secret,” Ignis agreed.

For one night, he would allow himself this simple comfort. 

“Thanks, Iggy.” The prince yawned, snuggling into the older boy’s side. Ignis found the body heat soothing and began to drift off, technicolor dreams dancing behind his eyelids.

_No, Noctis—thank you. _

**Author's Note:**

> This author responds to all comments! Feel free to talk to me directly on Tumblr (hard-noct-life) and Twitter (@HardNoctLife)
> 
> Art by AceFlorins (@aceflorins, Tumblr/Twitter)


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